Deadly Hero: The High Society Murder that Created Hysteria in the Heartland by Jason Lucky Morrow Page A

claimed that there were
many witnesses with information who were just too afraid to come forward. If
they did, he said, they would prove his murder theory.
    “I am at a loss to understand this fear,” Price
said. Hundreds of people knew the boys, and in his mind, one of them held the
key to solving both murders, if they would only come forward. “Just because
they chanced to know something of the principals in this case does not mean the
police will interpret that as meaning they are connected with the case . . .
or as anything detrimental to their reputation.
    “They should consider it a civic obligation to aid
officers in the matter. If these persons will get in touch with us, we will see
that they will receive the full protection of this office.”
    No one ever came forward.
     
    WHILE THE DEBATE OVER BORN’S death continued, one
persistent rumor was cleared up when seventeen-year-old Homer Wilcox Jr. walked
into police headquarters on Monday, December 10, as promised, to explain his connection
to the case. Police and newspapermen had been holding back on reporting that
Wilcox, classmate Bill Padon, and their dates that night, had shot out the two
streetlights near Gorrell’s Ford just hours before he was murdered. The murder,
and all the rumors and events that stemmed from it, roused the suspicions of
officials and the general public. It was hard for them to believe the
streetlights being shot out did not have something to do with the murder
and was just a coincidence.
    Homer Wilcox Jr. and his father arrived at 8:35 in
the morning and were both neatly dressed in dark blue overcoats, tailored
suits, and fashionable ties. They were unfamiliar with the layout of the police
station and appeared confused by the crowd at the door of the municipal
courtroom. A helpful reporter directed them to Maddux’s office.
    While the sergeant and Assistant County Attorney Dixie
Gilmer questioned the young man for forty-five minutes, Homer Senior and his
attorney waited in the press room of the courthouse and chatted with reporters.
Wilcox expressed his belief that Kennamer had “forced his companionship” on
some of the younger boys whose names had been mentioned in the case.
    “Kennamer often called our house by telephone and
asked for Homer, but Mrs. Wilcox consistently discouraged the association,
principally because Kennamer was reputed to be a wild driver and had been in
several automobile accidents,” Senior told reporters. “Mrs. Wilcox didn’t want
our son to go out with Kennamer and get hurt in an accident. I told the boy to
give police any information he might have that would help them. But he doesn’t
know anything.”
    The fact that Wilcox and friends shot out the two
streetlights nearest to where Gorrell was found dead in his car was mere
coincidence, Senior asserted.
    Maddux and Dixie Gilmer agreed and seemed
satisfied with the boy’s explanation that his connection to the crime scene was
a fluke, but Junior and Padon had still broken the law. Homer was formally
arrested on a charge of malicious mischief and was in the process of emptying
his pockets for the desk sergeant when he remarked, “I’ve certainly gotten
myself in a fine mess.”
    Before he could be jailed, however, his father’s
attorney made arrangements for the boy’s release on a $500 bond. When he
appeared in municipal court the next day, the flash of a news photographer’s
camera brought an admonishment from Judge Andress Hatch.
    “This young man is under the protection of the
court,” Judge Hatch began. “While he’s under my jurisdiction, I am not going to
subject him to pictures unless he wants them taken.”
    For such a minor crime and the boy’s accidental
involvement in the case, the World and Tribune devoted dozens of
column inches and numerous photographs. The story then spread as far east as
the New York Times, and to California newspapers like the Oakland
Tribune.
    Judge Hatch reprimanded the boy and hinted at the